


Death is Not an Escape

by starlalalala



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Dark fic, Dead by Daylight au, Gen, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Temporary Character Death, Time Loop, To a point, and somewhat on your interpretation on ending, dbd au, is largely dependent on your interpretation of happy, whether or not this has a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 13:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14309316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlalalala/pseuds/starlalalala
Summary: Gavin doesn't know how many cycles he's been trapped, surviving or dying and coming back to do it all again. At least he has Ryan, right?





	Death is Not an Escape

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been far too long in the works! I'd like to give everyone a quick reminder to heed the tags -this story is based on Dead by Daylight, and has some gore from that 'verse.
> 
> Thank you to Romanee for beta-ing! <3
> 
> The title is from the tag-line of the game!

“Quiet,” Ryan hissed. A bit redundant, really. His hand was already over Gavin’s mouth.

The Huntress hummed as she walked past their hiding space. Ryan and Gavin pressed close together between the wall and the crate, uncomfortable and cramped but as close to safe as they could be. For the moment. They listened as the humming and the footsteps remained too loud, even over their pounding hearts and the nearby generator. Ryan and Gavin kept their eyes on each other. It was their rule for situations like this, when they couldn’t run. No point in seeing what was coming if you couldn’t escape from it.

The footsteps faded first, the humming soon after. Ryan sighed. His hand dropped from Gavin’s mouth to grip his shirt and he smiled, even if Gavin could still see the fear in his eyes. The blue was the brightest colour in the Institute.

“C’mon,” Gavin whispered after a moment. “There’s another genny down the corridor, saw it earlier.”

“Yeah,” Ryan agreed. He didn’t move, not at first, and Gavin didn’t push him. The hand in Gavin’s shirt tightened.

They crept their way down the corridors of the Institute, Ryan scanning the doors they passed by, Gavin keeping an eye behind them. The Huntress’ humming made her easier to locate, but caution was a lesson they’d learned a hundred times.

It wasn’t always enough.

Another survivor, a woman with red hair and wild eyes, ran right by them and their instinct was to run after her, of course it was when they _knew_ what that meant, but Gavin was barely off the ground before a hatchet embedded itself into his shoulder, tearing through skin and muscle and grinding against bone.

Gavin fell,  his chin cracking against the floor and Ryan was yelling,  _screaming_. He put himself between Gavin and the Huntress, but the Huntress batted him away like he was nothing.

The axe split Gavin’s skull in two. He felt the impact. He was dead before he could feel the pain.

 

“So, who were you before?” Gavin asked him.

Ryan grunted. Fair enough. The generator was more important  right now. The Hag could be close. They didn’t need to do anything that would draw her attention.

“When were you from, at least?” Gavin continued, not at all deterred. He felt comfortable enough around Ryan to know he wasn’t a survivor who had abandoned all humanity yet. Might leave Gavin to die if he had too, sure, but wouldn’t lead the killer to him in an attempt to escape.

The generator stuttered to life and a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the swamp. Too close. It was always too close.

Ryan grabbed Gavin’s hand and Gavin almost yelped in shock, his mouth shutting with a click when he was dragged to his feet. Ryan’s strides were longer than Gavin’s and he wasn’t slowing down. Gavin could only keep his feet under him, forcing himself to match Ryan’s pace.

A trap burst from the ground and Gavin kept running, didn’t look behind him, couldn’t. Ryan let him go and he was _certain_ he was being abandoned, but Ryan was only waiting for him to get past the palette before he slammed it in the Hag’s face, her claws leaving long scratches against the wood.

Gavin led them now. He prayed Ryan followed.

He climbed through the window of the rotten old shack and heard Ryan do the same. He’d repaired the generator in here so they should be able to get out through the other side– yes, the floodgate had opened and while the ground was thick with mud Gavin knew the rhythm to run through it without slowing down too much.

Gavin slowed as soon as he made it to the tree line, hopping from one cover to the next as he caught his breath. His heart rate slowed and it was only then that he relaxed for a moment before a hand on his shoulder spun him around.

“How’d you get through that mud so fast?” Ryan panted. Gavin tried to keep in a hysterical giggle when he saw Ryan had somehow managed to kick up mud to his _chest_ , and was only a little successful.

“Sorry,” Gavin said when Ryan scowled at him. “You gotta get the motion right. _And_ you still didn’t answer my question.”

Ryan kept a serious expression –but then he chuckled, and Gavin saw his smile.

It had been a long time since he’d seen someone smile. He thought Ryan’s was nice.

“I’m from 2014,” Ryan said. “I was an IT guy.”

“I’m from 2015!” Gavin replied, and maybe he was a little too excited, but he hadn’t talked to someone like this in so many cycles, he hadn’t seen Geoff or Michael in ages and he needed someone, _anyone_ , to have a normal conversation with again. “I’m a photographer.”

“Well, Gavin the photographer,” Ryan said. “We’ve got one generator to go and plenty of time. Show me how not to die in the mud.”

 

Gavin had grabbed the medkit earlier. A woman with crooked glasses and kind eyes had taught him how to use it properly a hundred cycles ago and he’d always remembered how.

Ryan hissed as Gavin’s hand worked around his chest, the hole the hook left raw and red and bleeding. In the regular world it would be infected and Ryan would need pills and needles and antiseptics. Infection didn’t matter here -the wound would be gone in an hour, one way or another. It only mattered now because the Pig was sneaking around and Ryan needed to be able to move.

“That’s as good as I can make it,” Gavin said. The sterile white bandage covering Ryan’s wound soon soaked through with small patches of blood. The corn field kept them hidden for now, but the Pig liked to hide in it, too.

Somewhere a generator started. Gavin and Ryan sighed in relief, the noise telling them they were that much closer to escape and, more importantly, that the killer would be distracted for the next minute or so.

“I want to check the toolbox under the harvester,” Ryan said. “You get started on the generator.”

Gavin bit his lip and nodded. He didn’t like it, but with the Pig chasing after the other survivor it was Ryan’s best chance to find something without paying for it.

“Meet you there,” Gavin told him. More of an order, really.

Ryan smiled. “See you soon.”

The Pig wasn’t as distracted as they thought.

Gavin heard a sharp cry from the harvester and abandoned the generator without a second thought. He could practically hear Ryan calling him an idiot. Telling him to finish the job.

As if a generator was more important than Ryan.

There was nothing but a spray of blood covering an empty toolbox when he found the harvester. The field around him was silent. Against the Pig, that didn’t mean much.

Calling for Ryan would be pointless and dangerous. Instead, Gavin crouched and crept along the path he was certain Ryan would take. The Pig had only been around for the last few cycles. Right now, they knew the land better than she did. The nearest jungle gym would give him enough space to loop around, maybe try to hide in the corn field again–

The corn stalks parted in front of him. Gavin found himself face to face with the Pig.

For a second, they locked eyes, and Gavin would swear he saw real eyes behind the mask, _human_ eyes, but–

The Pig lunged and Gavin dived. He made it to his feet and the Pig pulled her knife from the dirt.

Gavin ran. The jungle gym was now his best bet, if he could get to a palette and loop around he could lose her, he could lose her, he just had to make it to the palette and he would _live._

He felt wind against the back of his neck as the Pig swung and missed, grunting in frustration and sounding far too human.

The jungle gym rose up around him. Gavin ducked under bars covered in peeling green paint and headed for stacks of wood, one palette already overturned. That had to have been Ryan. If she was here Ryan had escaped.

Gavin leaped over the palette.

The Pig snarled in frustration but Gavin was already diving for the corn field. It was easy to become lost in the stalks. He crawled away, kept close to the ground, curled up beside an old barrel and paused. Either the Pig would find him or not, but he had to get his breath back. His lungs burned. He wouldn’t get away again.

When Gavin was still alive after two minutes, he snuck back towards the generator, keeping himself low.

Ryan was there.

“Oh, God,” Gavin whispered.

Ryan looked awful. His hair was matted across his forehead with blood. His side was bleeding sluggishly between his fingers. And he had that fucking _thing_ on his head, the _reverse bear trap_ or whatever the other survivors had dubbed it.

“Ryan,” Gavin said and Ryan’s head whipped towards him. He tried to speak but of course all he could manage were grunts, and Gavin shushed him, afraid of any movement that might set off the trap. He knew they worked on timers. He couldn’t help with it.

“We need to get that thing off of you,” Gavin insisted but Ryan shook his head, pointing to the generator.

“Ryan, _no._ It’ll start the timer–” Ryan rolled his eyes. Gestured to the generator again, then to the thing on his face. _Do it. We have time._

“Fine,” Gavin huffed, and pushed the medkit towards him. “Just use that, okay?”

They both got out that round. Another survivor escaped as well, and the fourth was alive when they ran into the mist where they would soon find another campfire, another hell.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Ryan demanded. He’d been upset all map, only holding it in because the Pig was too quiet and raised voices could end them both. Now they were safe. Now they could argue.

“You screamed, Ryan, what was I supposed to–”

“You were supposed to  _wait_ ,” Ryan yelled, the mist muffling it, making the sound echo back to them so Gavin could hear the way his voice cracked again and again. “You were supposed to wait at the generator. When I got back and you weren’t there, I–”

“I couldn’t just leave you–”

Lips crashed against his and Gavin responded, too many close calls and too much tension clashing into teeth and lips.

Ryan pulled away. Gavin blinked, mouth open, not sure what to say.

“I can take care of myself, Gavin,” he said. He wouldn’t quite meet Gavin’s eyes. “And I’ve got you to patch me up. I told you I’d be fine and I was. Trust me, please.”

Gavin shook his head but the pleading tone broke him.

“Fine,” he whispered. “But I’m not going to do  _nothing_ , Ryan, not when I can see you getting chased, or getting caught.”

Ryan sighed, his breath too hot in the cold of the mist. “I know, Gavin. I know.”

They didn’t talk about the kiss.

 

“I didn’t know you could just choose that,” Gavin said.

They were kneeling on the bloodstained boards of the second floor. The old lodge was a stupid place to be, really. One exit and all. But it gave them a good vantage point of the rest of the yard. Helped them find the generators that seemed to shift position every cycle. A couple of crows settled beside them, taking in the view.

They had watched another survivor get hooked. Gavin had gotten up, ready to save them, but Ryan had dragged him back down. Told him to really look.

The man hadn’t struggled.

He hadn’t tried to escape from the Trapper’s hold. He hadn’t tried to escape from the hook. And now, as they watched, he didn’t try to struggle against the entity when its claws tore through him.

“I didn’t know you could just give up,” Gavin said. He knew Ryan was looking at him, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man’s body as it was lifted up and dissolved. A hand on Gavin’s leg didn’t faze him. Nor did a tug on his shirt.

“ _Gavin,_ ” Ryan snapped, shaking him. Gavin blinked, gaze falling on Ryan. Ryan with his bruised looking eyes and his face framed in dirt and old blood. Ryan who held down the panic in his voice for Gavin’s sake.

“…We should go,” Gavin mumbled. Ryan’s shoulders dropped and he smiled, nodded, helped Gavin to his feet.

“It happens sometimes,” Ryan told him, much later, when they were curled up by the campfire waiting for the next cycle to begin. For warmth, Ryan had insisted. Warmth and nothing else. “People who’ve been here for too long. They lose hope. Stop fighting.”

“What happens to them?” Gavin asked, hiding his face in Ryan’s neck. Ryan allowed it. “Do they just stand around every cycle?”

“I don’t know,” Ryan said. He tugged Gavin closer and Gavin grinned, struggling to hide it before Ryan could feel it. “I’ve never seen them afterwards. It’s like they’re just gone.”

Gavin thought about it. He had gone cycles and cycles before without seeing a familiar survivor, but he’d always run into them again eventually. How long, he wondered, would it take for him to realise someone might be gone for good? For him to accept that they weren’t coming back?

Would anyone notice if he disappeared?

He liked to think Ryan would.

 

Gavin locked eyes with the woman in the Hillbilly’s grasp.

She smiled at him.

The Hillbilly threw her on the ground and she cried out, a reflexive sound soon overcome by laughter. She laughed and laughed as he revved up his chainsaw, laughed as he brought it down, and laughed until her laughs were choked out with screams. The tall grass barely shielded Gavin from the Hillbilly’s sight but didn’t stop the blood from spraying across Gavin’s face and clothes and hair. The Hillbilly pulled his chainsaw out of the mud. The woman’s body lay in two halves, her waist now a ragged, bloody hole.

The Hillbilly walked away. Gavin didn’t move.

A generator blew near him. Too close to be safe with nothing else to hold the Hillbilly’s attention. Gavin didn’t move. A crow began circling him like a vulture.

He barely noticed his heartbeat pick up with the Hillbilly’s presence. All he could feel was the blood on his face, sticky and still too warm. The woman had been silenced but he swore he could hear her laughter.

How long had she been here? How many cycles until she _laughed_ until her body forced itself to scream? How many more cycles could she make it through?

How many more cycles could  _he_?

A hand on Gavin’s shoulder didn’t jolt him like it should have. He let himself be turned, found Ryan’s anxious eyes trying to meet his. Gavin wasn’t purposely looking away, but he couldn’t seem to focus long enough. Ryan looked at him, then at the body in the mud. His hand slipped into Gavin’s and he tugged, pulling Gavin away, and Gavin let himself be led.

Gavin didn’t survive that round. He was too slow and loud and the Hillbilly’s chainsaw tore through his back. He didn’t give up –struggled to escape the Hillbilly’s grasp, struggled when the Entity’s claws descended on his hook. He wouldn’t go out like the woman. Not now. Not yet.

The Hillbilly roamed nearby, chasing away any survivor that got too close to his prize.

Before Gavin died, he saw Ryan. Hiding amongst the wrecked parts. Watching Gavin struggle.

And then his hand slipped and the Entity pierced his heart.

 

The next cycle Gavin and Ryan found each other in, Ryan pulled him into a hug.

“Don’t do that again,” Ryan pleaded. Gavin couldn’t see his face, hidden as it was in Gavin’s shoulder. “I mean it, Gavin.”

“I won’t,” Gavin said. His voice was too quiet, so he spoke up. “I won’t, Ryan. Last time, I…”

Gavin trailed off. He couldn’t explain what he had seen. What he had  _felt_. It was still too close to the surface, and he didn’t want to contradict his own words as soon as he’d said them.

“I get it, Gav.” Ryan pulled back enough to look Gavin over –saw the blood that wouldn’t leave his collar no matter how many cycles he survived, the bruise around his neck that seemed to never fade. Gavin knew he was beginning to look more like Ryan, with his perpetually tired eyes and blood-stained clothes. “I know. But I can’t… please don’t give up.”

“I didn’t, Ryan!” Gavin protested. He was too loud, heedless of the Wraith stalking the old kindergarten. “I tried to struggle–”

“I know, I know,” Ryan said. One hand brushed through Gavin’s hair, in a soothing motion –but soothing which of them, Gavin couldn’t say. “I saw. I just… Things are going to keep getting harder before they can ever get better. And I’ve seen so many people just stop trying. I can’t see you like that.”

“You won’t have to, Ryan,” Gavin promised. His heart was beating too fast, but it wasn’t to do with the killer. “We’ll keep each other up, yeah?”

Ryan’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah, Gav,” he sighed, giving Gavin a shaky smile. “I’m… sorry I didn’t get to you that round.”

Gavin remembered Ryan there, watching him die, kept at bay by the threat of the Hillbilly.

“It’s fine, Ryan,” Gavin said. Ryan shook his head.

Their conversation was interrupted by the toll of the Wraith’s bell.

Ryan grabbed Gavin’s hand and ran. This time, Gavin kept up.

 

“I don’t like him,” Michael whispered.

He and Gavin were working on a generator. They’d heard screams on the other side of the yard and while Gavin didn’t like it, it meant they could work in relative safety for a time. Ryan had gone off to search through a nearby chest.

Michael had been one of the first survivors Gavin had met, and one of the few who bothered to talk to him. Michael had looked out for him while Gavin was still learning how the cycles worked. Even taught him how to fix the generators faster, though Michael had gruffly insisted it was only to give himself a better chance of survival.

“Ryan? Why not?” Gavin asked, a little hurt. He hadn’t seen Michael in a few cycles. He’d hoped they’d be able to… maybe not catch up, since there wasn’t much to talk about other than comparing notes on how to survive different killers. But at least they could enjoy the time together.

“He’s…” Michael trailed off. His eyes drifted to where Ryan had crept, out of sight. “He’s been here too long, Gav.”

“He’s helped me, Michael,” Gavin said simply. Maybe Gavin didn’t know Ryan all that well yet, and he was a bit more… ruthless than a lot of other survivors.  None of that mattered, though. He’d never thrown Gavin between him and a killer before, and that was enough. “And we’ve _all_ been here too long.”

Michael scoffed. But then something in him softened, as it usually did around Gavin. “Listen, I’ve met survivors like him, alright? If he’s keeping you safe now, that’s fine, just… don’t get attached. Be careful, Gavvy.”

Gavin didn’t quite understand what Michael was getting at. He nodded along anyway.

Gavin wasn’t naïve, even without the same experience some of the other survivors had. He knew not all survivors were his allies. But he knew Ryan wasn’t an enemy.

“How–”

Whatever else Michael was about to say was cut off in a choked cough of air.

“Michael!” Gavin yelled. The Shape -they hadn’t even heard him coming.

Michael coughed again, blood spattering against the generator. The Shape picked him up like he weighed nothing, and the mask turned to Gavin.

The knife swung at him. Gavin yelled and scrambled back, ass landing in the mud. The knife hit the generator, bounced off it uselessly. With a low growl, the Shape backed off, carrying Michael to the nearest hook.

Michael struggled. The hook was too close. He’d never have a chance.

Gavin lunged forward, chasing the Shape. He didn’t have a torch, and knew the Shape would ignore him if he just tried to distract him. He really only had one option.

Gavin put himself in the path of the Shape.

He ducked under the first swipe of the knife. The Shape grunted in annoyance. The next swing connected and Gavin cried out, staggering to the side. Pain raced across his ribs and his heart pounded, blood flowing from his wound like a waterfall. He’d slowed the Shape down a little. Michael was still struggling, desperately, but it wasn’t going to be enough–

Michael shouted, telling him to run.

Gavin ignored him.

He rushed forward again, dodging one swipe, then two. The Shape snarled. Michael cursed and struggled. He might get out, if-

Gavin was too slow. The next strike cut across his back. He couldn’t stop his scream, and he couldn’t stop himself from falling. Michael _might_ be able to get out, but even if he did Gavin was probably going to take his place-

“Hey!”

Gavin, Michael, and the killer all turned to the source of the voice. Light shone through the grass and Gavin looked away, heard the Shape grunt and Michael cry out as he was dropped. The Shape stumbled back, growling, and turned to where Michael had only just gotten up, and then his eyes were on Gavin.

But the voice -Ryan, because of course it was- yelled again and light flashed over the Shape.

The Shape growled. One hand covered his eyes and he stormed forward. The killers hated torches.

Michael was by Gavin in a second, lips pressed tight together. He grabbed Gavin’s discarded medkit from the ground and worked quickly. If the Shape lost interest in Ryan, they needed to be far away.

“See?” Gavin mumbled, a little dizzy from blood loss and hitting the ground. “Told you Ryan wasn’t bad.”

“Yeah, well,” Michael snapped, running a bandage around Gavin’s chest. His tone was harsh, but his touch wasn’t. “ _Not bad_ isn’t _good_. And he might not stay _not bad_ forever.”

 

The next time they met, Ryan didn’t look so good.

There’d been screams earlier in the cycle, so when Gavin saw him covered in blood he rushed over, thinking Ryan was hurt. He should’ve known that wasn’t the case. Gavin was getting really good at spotting injured survivors. His medkit was almost empty, anyway, used up on himself after he’d escaped the hook.

Ryan’s clothes had been bloodstained almost since Gavin had known him. Not like this, though. It looked like he’d been bathing in it.

“Ryan?” Gavin asked. The air smelled like rancid flesh. The abattoir was upwind.

There wasn’t any recognition in Ryan’s eyes. Gavin wondered if he looked that different, too, but the moment passed. Ryan blinked and his entire bearing seemed to relax.

“Gavin,” he said, and Gavin found himself pulled into a hug.

Gavin returned it, but couldn’t stop himself from feeling uncomfortable when Ryan didn’t let go. Their few touches that weren’t born of necessity never lasted this long. And the hug itself wasn’t… great. Ryan held him too tightly, his clothes were stiff with the blood, and it all just felt _off_.

But Gavin returned it, because what else could he do?

“Ryan, what happened?” Gavin asked when they pulled back.

Ryan looked at him oddly, and okay, maybe it had been a stupid question. What happened was they all got drawn into a cruel hellscape where they were hunted down by monsters for the amusement of a sadistic spider god.

“Gavin,” Ryan began, slowly, “how many cycles had it been for you? Since we last met?”

Gavin blinked, thinking. He’d stopped counting around the time he’d hit fifty -after that, it just got depressing to think about. But he could take a guess, for Ryan.

“I dunno, maybe seven?” Gavin shrugged.

Ryan fell in his haste to get away. He landed on his ass, which would’ve been kind of funny if he wasn’t looking at Gavin the same way he looked at the Nurse when she appeared with a scream and a swing of her bonesaw.

“Twenty-six,” Ryan whispered. A scream rang through the slaughter grounds, making them both flinch. “It’s been twenty-six since I last saw you.”

Gavin blinked. He licked his dry lips, only to grimace at the taste of blood. He hoped he’d just bitten his lip earlier.

“Time works differently here, Ryan,” Gavin offered, quiet. His heartbeat picked up and he looked around, instinct telling him the killer was nearby, but the Nurse was nowhere to be seen. “We _know_ that.”

“Differently, yeah,” Ryan agreed, voice climbing higher and _there_ was the unnatural rise of his heartbeat, he couldn’t see the Nurse but she was close. Ryan drove on, regardless. “Not like this. Gavin, how long have we been here? Is there even anything left away from here?”

“Ryan-” Gavin tried, but he felt the air move behind him before he heard the awful cry of the Nurse.

Gavin dived forward. The bonesaw caught against his shirt and the fabric ripped.

The Nurse coughed, a horrible, wrenching sound that meant a chance for Gavin. He scrambled to Ryan and tried to drag him up with him but Ryan wouldn’t _move_ , and the Nurse was recovering.

“Ryan,” Gavin snapped. Ryan finally looked at him and Gavin felt a half second of relief before the bonesaw bit into his arm.

Supernatural strength cut through skin and muscle until Gavin could feel something scraping against his bone. He choked on a scream, stumbled as the Nurse pulled her weapon out with a painful _wrench_.

He should go -he should just _go._ The Nurse wiped the blood off her bonesaw -an empty gesture that just smeared the stains all over the blade. Ryan was looking at him horrified but frozen, useless, and if he stayed they’d probably both die. If he ran, at least Gavin might have a chance.

Feeling sick to his stomach, Gavin gave Ryan’s arm one last desperate tug.

Gavin should’ve been used to pain, by now.

The scream torn from his throat was cut short. He choked on his blood, coughing hard enough to send it spraying over his hand, the ground, Ryan. His legs fell out from under him and he wondered, distantly, if the bonesaw had cut through his spine as it ripped through his back.

Gavin waited to be picked up. Instead he felt hands around his neck.

He tried to scream but he _couldn’t_ , tried to claw at the Nurse’s face but recoiled at the sensation of whatever she hid beneath the bloodied pillow case tied around her head.

Roaring filled his ears and tears streamed hot down his face, and he was sure he knew what he looked like, could remember the corpses with their bulging eyes and bruised necks and he didn’t want to be like that. It was pointless. He’d just come back for another cycle. Again and again. His arms fell to his sides, muscles going limp.

Someone screamed. Gavin knew it wasn’t him, because he didn’t have the breath. A shape moved beside the Nurse but whatever it was trying to do was too little, too late for Gavin.

The world faded to black.

Gavin found he didn't mind so much.

 

Jeremy was new, but nice enough and in surprisingly good humour for someone who found themselves in a hellscape of perpetual night, hunted by inhuman killers.

“You’re Michael’s Gavin, right?” Jeremy asked. They were working on a generator together, Ryan keeping watch. There wasn’t enough room for all three of them to work, wedged into a corner as it was.

“ _Michael’s_ Gavin, huh?” Ryan muttered. Gavin laughed him off while Jeremy blushed.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise you two were-”

“We’re not,” Gavin assured him with a smile. Jeremy returned it a little nervously, glancing over at Ryan who had the decency to look apologetic. “Ryan’s just messing with you. Because he’s a prick.”

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time you’re on a hook,” Ryan said, and that startled a laugh out of Jeremy, a laugh that quickly cut off as he searched for the killer.

“Don’t worry, someone’s getting chased halfway across the yard.” Ryan nodded towards the distance. Gavin didn’t bother looking. Jeremy did, frowning.

“Shouldn’t we help them?”

Ryan took a breath but Gavin answered first. Some of Ryan’s answers wouldn’t sit right with a new survivor.

“The best thing we can do for them is get these generators running. We can get them off the hook later. It’s their first one, they’ll be fine.” Jeremy didn’t seem to really like this answer. Gavin couldn’t blame him. It went against your instincts to just leave someone like that. Still, he kept working on the generator, and Jeremy did the same.

They did end up rescuing that survivor, a woman about Jeremy’s height who taught them how to limit the noise the generators made when fixed. The exit gates were opened, and Gavin quickly healed Jeremy before they escaped. Ryan was out there, distracting the Cannibal. Gavin knew he’d be okay.

“How long have you been here?” Jeremy asked. Gavin shrugged. It was the most honest answer he could give. It didn’t seem to satisfy Jeremy.

“You stopped counting?”

“No point, is there? Hold still,” Gavin instructed, stitching up the last of Jeremy’s cuts. “I don’t think whatever gets us out of here has to do with how many of these things we go through.”

“But you still think there’s a way out?” Jeremy pushed. He didn’t move to stand, just looked up at Gavin.

“There has to be,” Gavin said, with only a little more confidence than he really felt. “We don't die here, but some survivors disappear after a while.”

“Doesn't mean they've gone home,” Jeremy pointed out. It was an oddly serious tone for the survivor.

Gavin smiled anyway. “I don't mean to jinx it, but can't be worse than here, right?”

Jeremy's gaze fixed on him for a moment. Gavin shifted, uncomfortable. It felt like the new survivor was staring straight through him.

Then he laughed, and any tension disappeared. “Probably.”

They didn’t see Jeremy at the campfire afterwards, but Gavin leaned against Ryan’s side and Ryan put an arm around him. Gavin tried to imagine a future. He’d been doing pretty well as a photographer, maybe he could get some international work. Meet Ryan in the real world. He wondered what their relationship would look like when they weren’t fighting to survive every second of it. If what they had could’ve been a relationship. Maybe they could have a proper one, back in the real world. Or maybe they’d have nothing in common.

“Do you think we’ll get out of here, Ryan?” Gavin asked, throwing a few dried flowers into the fire. It flared up, smoke drifting high past the crows sitting on tree branches, towards the moon. He wished it was a little less bright. It was easier to hide in the dark.

Ryan hummed but didn’t answer.

“The survivors we don’t see again have to go somewhere, right?” Gavin pressed, shifting away now, trying to get a better look at Ryan’s face.

“Do they?” Ryan asked, and then they were dragged to the next cycle.

 

Gavin hadn’t talked to Ryan in a while, and something was wrong.

It was an odd thing to contemplate while stuck on a hook. Gavin had been getting too much practice at struggling against the Entity’s claws lately -he’d been hooked dozens of times before, of course, but now he was dead on the hook almost every cycle. And there had been a lot of cycles, and almost no time at a campfire.

It felt too much like he was being targeted.

Getting hunted by a killer for an entire cycle after having the misfortune of being found first wasn’t exactly _unusual_ , but it had been happening _every cycle_. Gavin liked to think he was pretty good at keeping quiet, at staying a few steps ahead of the killer and escaping more often than not, but now even the best efforts of other survivors didn’t save him. Michael had already died trying.

Gavin could just see one survivor working on a generator on the other side of town -he couldn’t blame them for not making the effort. The hatch was already in play this round -the survivor was honestly being good by trying to complete more generators, save more than just themself.

The other survivor was Ryan.

Gavin knew because he’d seen him, trying to get closer, being chased off every time by the Trapper. There were at least three bear traps beneath Gavin’s feet. The killer never strayed far from him. Again, it wasn’t an unusual tactic. Annoying, yes. But on this scale, it was too much.

Still, Gavin struggled. If nothing else, he bought time for Ryan and that other survivor. The Trapper wasn’t chasing them while he guarded Gavin.

Crows landed on the hook above him, flying through the Entity’s claws.

His arms hurt. His muscles strained against the Entity’s tendrils, but there was only so much he could do while exhausted and bleeding out. He could just make out Ryan, hiding behind the police car, watching the Trapper as the killer searched behind the white picket fence.

With the Trapper’s back turned, Ryan ran.

Gavin met his eyes, saw the desperation there. Gavin wanted to tell him that it was okay, Gavin would come back like he always did, like everyone always did. This one cycle didn’t matter. Not against everything.

The Trapper roared in anger, and Gavin had enough energy to give a strangled, wordless warning cry to Ryan.

And then his hand slipped.

 

Gavin didn’t like Amanda.

Neither did Ryan, or Geoff, for that matter. They both kept their distance from her. She’d only been around for a few cycles but she was smart, resourceful. She should’ve been a great survivor. Instead, she was…

“I’m meant for something more,” she told Gavin once, while they were fixing a generator together. She was short, and quite pretty, Gavin thought. Her eyes were too bright, though. Too intense. “I won’t be like this for long.”

Gavin tried to smile at her, because maybe this was just her way of coping with what her world was now. “I hope you’re right.”

And he did. Amanda, weird or not, didn’t deserve this kind of hell. He didn’t think anyone  did.

Amanda smiled back, and it was the sort of smile you gave to toddlers when they’d gotten the wrong answer that only made sense to them.

“You don’t understand yet, Gavin,” she said, not unkindly. “You haven’t learned -but this place is a wonderful teacher. It taught me what I did wrong.”

Gavin worked silently after that, and Amanda didn’t seem to mind.  Whatever else was going on with her, she seemed self-aware enough to realise no one had any clue what she was talking about. But she worked on generators with him, they helped each other escape from the Cannibal’s chase, and after he healed her in front of the gate she smiled up at him.

“You’ve got a long way to go, Gavin, I can see that.”

“What-”

“I think you’re going to be wonderful, though,” Amanda said, and it was so sincere that Gavin couldn’t help but return her smile. He still had no idea what the hell she was talking about, but it wasn’t like he had a lot of people lining up to compliment him these days. “I can’t wait to see it.”

He didn’t see Amanda at the campfire afterwards.

He didn’t see her again.

A few cycles later, he met the Pig for the first time.

 

Gavin couldn’t think.

The Doctor had been on him all cycle. Gavin could constantly feel the electricity running through him, making everything fuzzy. The pain had faded to a numbness long ago, but Gavin knew that was bad. Pain, at least, kept him sharp -the numbness made him clumsy, slow, having to think through simple actions like vaulting a window or bringing down a pallet.

All he could do was try to keep one step ahead and avoid the other survivors. He helped them most by staying away.

The Doctor’s electricity sparked across the ground and Gavin couldn’t avoid it, a scream forced out of him. There was the pain. Locking up all his joints, ripping his attention away from where he should run next. It was a miracle he stayed upright.

Gavin’s luck ran out, though, when his vision recovered right before he slammed into a wall. He groaned, stumbling back into the Doctor’s strike.

It should’ve hurt more than it did.

Blood sprayed in front of him but Gavin didn’t get the chance to hit the ground. The Doctor grabbed his shoulder and lifted him up before he could fall.

Gavin tried to struggle. He did. But the electricity the Doctor seemed to emanate messed with him, got all the signals from his brain going in all different directions and not where he wanted them to go. His muscles twitched, an occasional painful spasm the most resistance he could offer. It wasn’t enough.

“Gavin!”

Gavin couldn’t look up, but he knew that voice. Calling for Ryan was beyond him, and even if he could, he’d only tell Ryan to run. Get him off the hook later. Gavin still had one left in him -he could survive for a little while.

Or maybe not, if his muscles didn’t start responding soon.

The Doctor snarled and swung at someone in front of them. Gavin knew he’d missed by the frustration in the killer’s whine. Again, Gavin wanted to tell them not to waste their time -he wasn’t getting himself away from the Doctor. He couldn’t _move._

That survivor screamed as the Doctor’s static got to him, and Gavin recognised Michael’s voice. He could see Jeremy, too, as they walked past his hiding spot. He could only just meet the other survivor’s eyes -saw the fear in them. Gavin hoped his emotions were too muddled for his own to shine through.

Gavin’s fist clenched, finally getting some control back. He breathed, focused. There was no way to avoid getting hooked -not unless the Doctor was dumb enough to walk through a pallet, or if one of the others found a torch on the ground. But if he could struggle on the hook, maybe he’d be saved -the others were all here, after all.

Gavin hadn’t survived a cycle in a while. He didn’t know why this one felt like it mattered. But it did. Gavin would survive this -he wasn’t going to die again. Jeremy, Michael, and Ryan were here. They’d make sure of it. All he had to do was keep himself alive long enough for them to save him.

The Doctor swung again. This time he heard a grunt of pain. Michael wouldn’t be able to slow them down anymore. Hopefully he was running off to Jeremy or Ryan, getting himself healed up.

“Gav, please!”

Gavin could just barely lift his head. Not enough to meet Ryan’s eyes, but to see the mud and blood-covered boots, too close. The Doctor swung him around, snarling at Ryan, but didn’t bother going for a hit. Ryan wasn’t causing him enough trouble to bother.

Jeremy tried to blind the Doctor, but the torch was old and weak and flickered out before it had any real effect. Gavin heard the sound of running through the underbrush. The killers had been staying close to him lately, but if Jeremy, Michael, and Ryan distracted him, one of them could save Gavin. There were only two generators left. Only Michael had been hooked as well. They could all survive this.

The Doctor slowed, shifted Gavin in his arms, and Gavin knew they'd reached a hook. He clenched his fists, ready to struggle. He could do this.

He could live.

The Doctor lifted him off his shoulder and Gavin braced himself for the hook, but there was nothing he could do about the shock that ran through him. He jerked in the Doctor’s grip. He couldn’t see the others, couldn’t even hear them, didn’t know if they knew what just happened or not.

Gavin wasn’t thinking about the pain of the hook, too focused on the body he could no longer control. He was dropped down and there it was, coming through his shoulder, forcing a scream through teeth he couldn’t unclench if he tried.

He couldn’t move and the Entity’s claws were already appearing around him.

“Gavin!”

Ryan was calling him. He tried to lift his head but he just couldn’t -he twitched, and that was about it. His muscles refused to respond. No matter how much Ryan called, no matter how much Gavin wanted to answer.

The Doctor was gone, his presence faded as he chased after Michael or Jeremy. Ryan was free to try and save him, but the Entity’s claws were almost solid, and Gavin knew he wouldn’t get there in time.

It didn’t matter. There would always be a next cycle. Ryan knew that, had to.

But when Ryan arrived, just in to see the Entity’s claws run through Gavin’s chest in perfect detail, Gavin realised that he might not.

_I’ve seen so many people just stop trying._

_I can’t see you like that._

Their eyes met, just before Gavin was lifted away, before the cycle ended for him. He tried to tell Ryan he was okay. That he hadn’t given up, that he would fight just as hard in the next cycle, that he wasn’t leaving Ryan behind.

By the look in his eyes, Gavin knew he hadn’t understood.

 

He didn’t see Ryan again.

 

Gavin had heard rumours of a new killer. He’d been doing better, lately. He’d survived the last few cycles, had enough time to talk to some of the other survivors. A few he knew, but no Michael, or Jeremy, or Geoff or even Jack. No Ryan.

But Jon was here, and he was easy to talk to. Didn’t mind chatting while they worked on generators, shared as much information between survivors as he could when they weren’t being chased across the farm. They could hear the Hillbilly’s chainsaw in the distance. Someone was keeping him distracted.

“Apparently the new killer’s not much of a threat,” Jon told him, setting his toolbox between him and Gavin. “For now, anyway. You remember the Pig when it first showed up?”

“Yeah,” Gavin agreed, glancing around when his heartbeat picked up for half a second. It faded just as fast, so he kept working. “But a lot of people died to the Pig before we figured out what her deal was. What about this new killer?”

Jon shrugged, paused before their work was done, making sure the noise of a completed generator wouldn’t put them in immediate danger. “No one knows. He’s got throwing knives, but they don’t have the same range as the Huntress. He’s good at tracking but if you loop him everyone else can get generators done.”

Gavin nodded. A scream rang out over the cornfield -a perfect time to complete the generator.

“What’s his name?” Gavin asked.

“People are still arguing about it, since ‘The Skull’ is too obvious,” Jon said, and Gavin laughed, the sound hidden by the generator finally activating. They crept through the corn together, making their way to where another survivor screamed.

“So’s ‘the Pig’.”

“But it’s _cliche,_ Gav,” Jon insisted, quieter now, focused on the sound of the chainsaw revving. “One name’s getting more popular, though.”

“Oh?”

“The Vagabond.”

 

Gavin first met the Vagabond thirty cycles since he last saw Ryan.

He wasn’t sure why he started counting again. Maybe because Ryan had counted when he hadn’t seen Gavin. It was hard to forget the look in Ryan’s eyes when they’d last met. When Gavin couldn’t struggle.

_I can’t see you like that._

It felt final.

At least Gavin could see what Jon was talking about. He’d already escaped from the Vagabond once, and while a knife to the arm stung, it wasn’t anything half a roll of bandages couldn’t fix. They’d gotten three generators done, Gavin was searching for a fourth, and only two of them had gotten hooked so far. The cycle was looking good.

Until Gavin’s heartbeat picked up and a knife flew into his shoulder.

Gavin cursed, breaking into a sprint and heading for the nearest building. He could lose the killer in the twists and turns of Haddonfield’s basements, or he could vault the windows and sprint away. He was dripping blood, making it easier for the killer to track him, but if he could just put enough distance between them to heal, he’d be okay.

Except the Vagabond’s aim was true, and just as Gavin was about to vault through the window a knife buried itself through his shoe and into his foot.

Gavin screamed, unable to complete the vault, and then the killer was on him.

The Vagabond threw him to the ground, jarring the knives still embedded in Gavin’s skin, and he screamed again. It hurt, it hurt like hell -with everything else he’d been through, Gavin was pretty sure he’d never gotten stabbed in the fucking foot before. That was going to be hurting him for the rest of the cycle.

Gavin grit his teeth and waited to be picked up. When he wasn’t, he opened his eyes to check for the killer.

“Shit,” he hissed.

The Vagabond was right there, hovering over him, but wasn’t making any move to pick him up. Just staring down at him, that awful black skull mask hiding any emotion. He hadn’t even heard the killer make a sound yet.

Another survivor ran past, torch flashing at the killer. The Vagabond looked at Gavin for a moment more, then followed.

Gavin didn’t see the killer again for that cycle. They all survived.

 

The Vagabond kept avoiding Gavin.

Gavin didn’t pretend to understand why, but that didn’t stop him from taking advantage of it.

It was easy to finish generators when he didn’t have to fear every change in his heartbeat. It was easy to find the courage to save other survivors from the hook when the killer froze every time he saw Gavin. It was easy to open the exit gates, both of them, for the other survivors when the killer let him.

The open field offered little cover, but Gavin didn’t need it. There was a survivor on a hook, and he would save her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Vagabond approach, raise his knife, and freeze.

The survivor cried out in pain as he pulled her off the hook. Gavin tried to apologise but she shook her head with a tight smile.

A smile that disappeared, her eyes fixed on something behind them.

Gavin spun her around and grimaced before the knife even hit him. It was the one way he would get hurt with the Vagabond. Taking a hit.

It was rare for the Vagabond to throw so close to him, though, and for the first time he heard a sound from the killer.

A strangled noise. Like the cry of an injured animal.

Gavin tried to turn, to get a look at the killer, try to understand what that sound _meant_ , but the other survivor was already pulling him away, and he followed obediently.

The Vagabond didn’t chase.

“I’m Meg,” she said as she bandaged him, her hands quick and gentle as could be against his torn flesh and muscle. He’d met another Meg before, but this one had purple hair and glasses. He’d never seen that other Meg smile, either.

They stuck with each other for the rest of the match. One survivor was unlucky enough to fall under the killer’s blade, but they made it out alright, and he knew the last survivor had been hanging around the hatch.

Meg was nice, and an experienced survivor, and Gavin didn’t meet a lot of people who were both. But he couldn’t bring himself to get attached again.

He still hadn’t seen Ryan. It had been forty cycles.

 

The Entity blocked the exit gate.

Gavin cursed. He’d known it had been too easy -even matches against the Vagabond weren’t this quick. The killer had blocked off their escape and if the screaming Gavin heard was any clue, his attacks had become brutal.

Gavin took a deep breath. It could still be okay. The Entity would only block the gate for so long. If he could get the other survivors off their hooks, if he could time it right, they would be able to run straight for the exit. For now, though, he’d look for the totem. Get rid of that, and the killer lost his new strength.

Gavin crept through the long grass. The Vagabond might not want to attack him, but that didn’t mean Gavin wanted the killer knowing his movements. Another scream rang out -the bond between all survivors showed him where they were being hooked. Close. On the other side of that shack.

At least the basement must’ve been somewhere else.

The totem shone in the darkness. Gavin ignored the shift in his heartbeat and set to work. He’d long ago stopped being grossed out by handling the bones and undoing the ligaments that bound them. He wasn’t sure how much it was worth. The Vagabond never hit him anyway, and there probably wouldn’t be time to heal up the other two survivors before they needed to race to the exit gate.

The fourth survivor had died just after the fourth generator popped. There wasn’t enough left of a face for Gavin to recognise. He prayed to whatever god was around -probably just the Entity- that it hadn’t been anyone he knew.

The totem fell apart. Gavin sighed, and it was only then that he noticed his heartbeat. He’d gotten so used to ignoring it against the Vagabond that he’d missed it speeding up.

His heart pounded inside his chest. The crows on the rock in front of him took flight, cawing loudly.

Gavin looked down. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see old, blood-stained boots. Dirty jeans.

He didn’t turn around. Just crept away from the rock, feeling the killer’s eyes on him. There was a pallet ahead. If the Vagabond did give chase, Gavin could bolt for it and slam it down, lose the killer in the landscape. He’d have to be quick. The Entity wouldn’t be blocking the exit anymore but the survivors were fading on the hooks.

The sound stopped his escape.

Gavin didn’t know how to describe it. Choked and pained and _familiar_ , but he couldn’t place where, and when he looked behind him he was met with a sight he didn’t understand.

The Vagabond’s eyes weren’t on him. He couldn’t tell for sure with the mask but he was certain they were squeezed shut as the killer shook his head, one hand clutching at the rubber mask that covered his face. The Vagabond’s mask was _burning_ , or so Gavin thought -it had the same appearance as the Entity’s claws before they properly formed, like it was made of cinders.

The killer groaned, a low, recognisable, _human_ sound. Gavin didn’t know what to do, frozen, watching. The Vagabond finally looked at him and groaned again, the sound petering out into a whine.

It was stupid to hesitate. Gavin should’ve just run, left the Vagabond to whatever pain he suffered and save the other survivors.

But the killer hadn’t ever hurt _him_ , purposefully, even as he’d torn through other survivors. The memory of the body he’d found still made bile rise in his throat. It didn’t stop him from opening his mouth. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, and he never found out.

The Vagabond’s mask burned and he snarled, lunging towards Gavin.

The knife cut through his shoulder, digging into his throat but without the power of the totem all it did was force Gavin away, pain screaming up and down his arm, his chest, his throat and that wasn’t a safe amount to bleed, but it didn’t matter. The pallet slammed behind him as he ran, adrenalin taking him to a hook where a survivor hung.

He heard the knife whistle through the air and dived to the left, the knife flying past and falling to the dirt. The survivor’s hand slipped, the Entity ran them through, and Gavin cursed. He didn’t have time to feel sorry for them. He had to keep moving.

The next survivor was behind him, where the Vagabond stood. Gavin would have to loop him around the shack. The window was blocked but the palette was unbroken, and he slid across it and ducked in time to avoid another knife.

The survivor lasted until he was halfway across the map before he felt them die.

Gavin’s legs trembled as he turned to the exit gate, vaulting a window and avoiding another knife. There was no point in sneaking. He was leaving too much of a blood trail. His throat felt numb, and that wasn’t good, but it didn’t matter. In two minutes he’d be free or he’d be dead. Either way, another cycle would begin.

His heartbeat evened out. The exit gate was unblocked and clear.

Gavin escaped. It didn’t feel like a victory.

 

Whatever had held the Vagabond back before, Gavin couldn’t rely on it anymore.

It was even odds that the killer would attack or leave him alone, and Gavin wasn’t willing to risk it. He missed being able to play hero to the other survivors. It was like he was back at the beginning, hiding, fixing generators and breaking totems to increase his own odds of survival, only helping the others when he knew he’d be safe. Except it was worse, now.

He kept remembering the body. The one with the unrecognisable face. He hadn’t seen many in his cycles against the Vagabond, but there’d been more, and Gavin didn’t want to die like that.

So he worked on the generator on the other side of the map to the hooked survivor.

They’d only finished one, and three people had been hooked already. At least with this one, the hatch would appear. If Gavin could find it, he’d survive. He was sure he could stay alive longer than anyone else.

He’d gotten too good at hiding lately.

The generator popped and light flooded the area. Gavin crept away, quick and quiet, climbing through a window to land in the grass outside the rotted kindergarten. He could see lights flickering close by -another generator, partially worked on. He ignored it. He’d find the hatch first.

The survivor was unhooked, their aura disappearing from Gavin’s sight. He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved, or upset that there were still three people between him and escape. Gavin tried to push the feeling away.

The Vagabond still had no power other than his throwing knives, but he’d learned. Gavin could remember Jon saying he wasn’t a threat. That wasn’t true anymore.

Another scream rang from the playground and Gavin knew the killer had found new prey already. He swallowed, moved faster, knowing he was relatively safe.

He found the hatch. It was by a hedge, a generator nearby, which Gavin hopped on just for something to do. His heartbeat picked up, just slightly, and kept steady. The Vagabond was close, but his attention was focused elsewhere.

It might not be for long if Gavin blew the generator though. He had to keep quiet, keep an eye on what wires and parts he moved. Couldn’t get distracted by the way his heartbeat jumped and faded again. The panting of the injured survivor growing closer, their footsteps growing near.

Gavin looked up just in time to see another survivor  down the hedge path and cursed, twisting a part wrong. The generator exploded right next to Gavin’s ear and he stumbled away, creeping into a nearby house and praying the survivor wouldn’t follow him.

But the survivor did, of course he did, ran straight past Gavin’s hiding place behind an armchair and climbed out of the window, the Vagabond on his tail.

Gavin held his breath. The Vagabond was in the room. He must’ve heard the other survivor leave, he could go through the window or walk through the house and cut him off. There was no reason for him to stick around.

Unless he’d seen Gavin.

The Vagabond’s mask was pure black, not burning anymore. The empty sockets of the skull mask turned in Gavin’s direction. Gavin was torn. Stay still? Dive for the window? The Vagabond must’ve seen him, he had to leave-

But before Gavin could even get up, the Vagabond stepped forward, cutting off his escape. The killer’s eyes were on him. Gavin froze.

The Vagabond stared into Gavin, and stepped out of the window.

It took a while for Gavin to remember how to breathe. He didn’t move until his heartbeat calmed down to normal, creeping out and returning to the sparking generator. The Vagabond might’ve seen the hatch, but that was okay. Gavin just had to make sure he was in position to go through it the second it opened. If it got to that point.

The generator was almost working, he hadn’t made anymore mistakes. Another had popped on the other side of the map. If another survivor was  working on a generator somewhere, they might even all make it out.

He heard a scream and sensed another survivor going down. Gavin was pretty sure it was the same guy who’d led the killer past him earlier, so he didn’t really care.

The survivor was hooked on the other side of the house. Gavin frowned as his heartbeat picked up, quietly getting off the generator and moving to the other side of the hedge, waiting. A crow landed next to him, and he willed it to keep quiet.

His heartbeat picked up again. The Vagabond was approaching.

Gavin could see movement, just below the hedge, through the leaves. Blood-stained boots that had become familiar. Gavin frowned. When had they become familiar? How had he come to know them? Survival situations, he supposed. Made it easier to remember what scared you.

The Vagabond stopped in front of the hedge. Only leaves and twigs separated them. The killer stepped to the side, and Gavin was ready to bolt as soon as he turned the corner.

The survivor was unhooked. The Vagabond walked away.

Gavin started breathing again.

He popped his generator while the Vagabond chased a couple of other survivors, and another popped soon after. The exit gates fired up, one right next to him. Gavin was hesitant to leave the hatch, but with the killer chasing the others, it might be safe.

The exit gates always took too long to open. He counted in his head, wondering if the Entity would block it again. One survivor went down. Another was injured. He had no idea where the fourth was. Hopefully on the other gate.

Another survivor down, but neither hooked. Gavin bit his lip. If the Vagabond was looking to down them all before hooking them, he could work with that.

He didn't think that was what was happening as he heard the screams. Not the sharp scream of a hit, or the wrenching pain of the hook, but something else. Something that brought the body with the unrecognisable face into his mind.

He felt when one of the survivors died. Not on a hook, but on the ground, by the killer’s own hand.

The exit gate blared as it opened. Gavin hurried through before the gates were even fully open. Something stopped him from taking the last few steps.

The other downed survivor was as good as dead, sure, but he didn’t know where that fourth survivor was. They didn’t feel hurt, they could just be opening the other exit gate or waiting patiently by the hatch, like he’d been. Gavin should just go, now. While he still could.

Gavin walked back into the field. He’d just check by the hatch, take a glance at the other exit gate. Make sure the other one got out. Then he’d come back here, or escape through the other door, and he’d be fine.

The hatch was nearby, and abandoned. Gavin swallowed and crept along, paying close attention to any change in his heartbeat, scanning the field as he ducked from cover to cover. He couldn’t see the killer, and travelling along the side of the arena he avoided having to face the bodies.

The exit gate was further than he’d thought. That was fine, though. Still no sign of the Vagabond. But no sign of the other survivor, either.

Gavin frowned. The exit gate was in view, but untouched. No one nearby, even though there was no heartbeat from the killer’s presence. Maybe they’d doubled back to the hatch, or the other gate. Maybe he should just leave.

Gavin turned back, but there was movement, in the corner of his eye. Still no heartbeat. A survivor.

Gavin bit his lip and approached.

The man was hiding behind a boulder, huddled up with his head hidden in his knees. It was a position Gavin had seen many survivors in. It was even odds the man wouldn’t even respond if Gavin spoke -he’d already opened an exit gate, provided the survivor with an escape if he ever wanted to move. He didn’t owe him anything more.

“Hey,” Gavin whispered.

The man flinched and held himself tighter.

“Hey,” Gavin whispered again, creeping closer. His heartbeat picked up for a second then faded again, and his breath hitched. “The other door’s open. Come on.”

The man looked at him. Eyes frighteningly empty of thought, wild like a cornered animal. “Open this one,” he hissed.

Gavin scowled and shook his head. “Just come on!” he snapped back, keeping his voice harsh but quiet. He turned to leave, but paused as his heartbeat picked up.

The Vagabond was coming.

The boulder was the only cover he could get to. Gavin really didn't want to get closer to the survivor, but he didn't have much of a choice.

The man looked even more feral as Gavin approached, drawing his lips back in a snarl. Gavin did his best to look unimpressed.

He could see the killer. He approached out of the mist like an apparition. Gavin knew the mask was rubber, the jeans wearing thin, and the jacket patched. In the dark it didn't seem that way. The seam of the mask was invisible. The skull looked like a part of him. The empty sockets almost stared through the rock into him.

Gavin evened his breathing. It was a struggle with his heart pounding so hard. The man next to him whimpered.

The Vagabond’s head turned towards their hiding place.

Gavin's hands clenched into fists. He should've left. Now the Vagabond was here, and Gavin was stuck in a corner, and…

Gavin knew where the exit gate and hatch were. All he had to do was be better than the man next to him. He'd left survivors behind before, if he knew he couldn't save them, but this… Was he really willing to throw another survivor into the killer’s grip? For one escape?

Gavin hesitated. The other man did not.

A hand on his back shoved Gavin forward, into the killer's path. A second later a knife pierced his back, driving through skin and muscle and scraping against bone. Gavin tried to stand, but any move seemed to drive the knife deeper, nudge it closer to his spine. He slumped back down. He prayed the Vagabond would just hook him up.

“Take him!” the man screamed. “Take him, take him, not me, _not me-”_

Gavin looked up and regretted it. The man's wild yells were cut off by a knife in his jaw. Gavin gagged, the movement jolting the knife in his back and forcing a whimper from him.

The man gargled, choking on blood. Gavin looked away as the Vagabond crouched beside the man. He didn't want to see what came next. He couldn’t stop himself from hearing, though. The man’s wet screams, drowning in his own blood. Gavin hoped he died before the Vagabond was finished with him, despite everything.

When silence fell, Gavin kept his eyes shut. He didn't want to see what the killer had in store for him.

Footsteps approached, stopping beside him. He heard fabric rustle as the killer crouched.

Gavin screamed as the knife was ripped out of him, blood flowing freely down his back. His eyes flew open as hands found his shoulders and rolled him over, and he found himself face to face with the Vagabond.

He'd known the mask was a mask. In the moonlight, or up close, you could see the rubber, the seams. But he'd never been able to see anything more. Now he could see skin within the sockets, the shape of two eyes looking down at him. With better light, he'd be able to see the colour.

The killer still held the knife dripping with Gavin's blood in one hand. He stared, silent. Gavin was frozen. He was sure any move would be punished.

The black of the mask began to smoulder, like coal that hadn’t quite caught. The Vagabond reached out.

Gavin could only flinch back as a strong hand gripped his shoulder, pinning him to the ground even if he could find the strength to get up. The knife hovered above Gavin’s cheek. He held his breath, closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see what happened next. With any luck, he’d bleed out before it was over.

But nothing happened.

Gavin peeked through his lashes. The smouldering fire on the killer’s mask was fading, replaced with the usual rubbery black. Gavin could almost make out his eyes in the dim light. They looked blue.

The Vagabond’s hand jerked back, then forward, a frustrated growl tearing from his throat as blisters of light appeared on his mask. Gavin’s eyes fixed on the knife. It reflected the light from the mask in jittery patterns, the killer’s trembling hand stopping the image from forming.

Another growl. Or maybe it wasn’t a growl -every sound the killer made sounded strangled, pained. It could’ve been a whimper. Gavin looked up on instinct.

The mask’s smouldering light lit up the killer’s eyes.

Gavin _knew_ those eyes.

He knew what they looked like terrified. He knew what they looked like crinkled with laughter, or narrowed in anger, or softened with affection. He knew what they looked like without hope. And now, he could see them conflicted, confused, as the knife trembled in the Vagabond’s grip.

“Ryan,” Gavin whispered. It wasn’t a question.

The light went away. The hand on his shoulder loosened, trailed closer to his neck. Gavin stiffened but it moved, cupping his cheek. Gavin breathed slowly. He met the Vagabond’s- Ryan’s- eyes, but he couldn’t see them anymore.

Gavin opened his mouth to say something. He didn’t know what. A question? He had a lot of them. _I missed you?_ It was true. _I love you?_ He wasn’t sure about that one. He still wished he’d said it before.

It didn’t matter what he was going to say. The mask burned, Ryan’s eyes were empty, and there was a knife in Gavin’s chest.

It hurt. Of course it did. But it didn’t seem any worse than anything else he’d been through here.

Gavin didn’t think it had gone through his heart. Something important, though. An artery? One of the big ones, maybe. It was bleeding fast enough. He let his head fall back to the ground. It didn’t matter. Maybe he and Ryan could talk later. If Ryan could still talk.

The light faded and Ryan made a strangled noise. He must've dropped the knife, because suddenly he was pressing both hands over Gavin's wound, whining as his hands were covered in blood. Gavin smiled. It was nice to think Ryan cared, even as he was now.

It was a slower death than he was really used to. But he was numb, mostly. Cold. Shivering would help, if his muscles would do it. His breathing slowed, then became uneven. He couldn't quite focus on Ryan anymore, but he knew the man was still there. It was nice not to be alone.

Gavin's heartbeat stuttered. He was certain the knife had cut through an artery. The blood seemed to go nowhere but out, and even that was slowing. He didn't think he should still be conscious. Lack of oxygen to the brain and all.

But Gavin was conscious, or at least aware of himself, and of Ryan.

His heartbeat slowed. Stopped. He tried to breathe in and found he couldn't.

He couldn't feel Ryan's hands on him, though he could still blearily make them out, pressed to his chest as the killer keened above him.

Was Gavin dead? It felt like it. But it shouldn’t be like this. He’d been the last survivor -Ryan had won, the world should be fading and he should be waking up by a campfire, waiting to be drawn into another cycle, and another, and another. Ryan’s knife glinted in what little light from the generators reached this corner of the map. Was that all that waited at the end of this? Would they all be like Ryan?

Gavin was vaguely aware of being lifted, shaken. His vision rolled and he felt dizzy, but not nauseous. He’d like to tell Ryan to stop, but he had no breath and no control over his body, anyway.

There was something close to worry at the edges of his mind. Gavin was too numb to really feel it. He could understand it, though. This wasn’t normal. He should be gone by now, this should be over.

Ryan seemed to know that too. He finally dropped Gavin, and Gavin could watch as Ryan looked around, as if the answer would be somewhere around them. He kept moving to stand, and then stopping, hands never really leaving Gavin’s body.

And then all at once he froze, the blurry image stilling. Ryan’s head cocked to the side like he was listening to something. Gavin could hear the distant sound of generators, the rare caw from the crows, but nothing else.

Ryan left. Gavin stared into the distance. There wasn’t much else he could do.

There was a scuffle somewhere nearby. The crows cawed and shrieked angrily.

A wet sound. Ryan came back into view.

He was holding the corpse of a crow.

Gavin’s vision finally, finally began to fade to black, a dull roar filling his ears as Ryan knelt beside him.

 _I didn’t give up,_ he thought. _It didn’t matter, Ryan. But I didn’t give up._

 

Michael cursed as the crow beside him cawed, shattering the silence of the swamp. He knew the Vagabond would hear it. His heart pounded as he leapt from cover, sprinting by the old paddle steamer, across the muddy fields. The other survivors were dead. He just needed to find the fucking hatch, and he’d be out.

He had to lose the killer first.

With enough distance between them to slow down, Michael ducked behind a tree and slowly doubled back around, giving his tracks a wide berth. His heartbeat picked up as the killer followed and paused, searching for where he’d gone.

Michael crept away, careful not to make a sound. He only just registered the sound of wings over his heartbeat.

_Don’t you do it, motherfucker, I’m not freaking you out-_

The crow cawed again, right behind him.

A knife flew into his back when he was too slow to get up, forcing him to scramble forward until his feet were properly beneath him.

His lungs already burned. The Vagabond was too close behind him, and he was running in a straight line, bad idea against a guy with _throwing knives_ -

Michael couldn’t dodge in time.

He landed face-first in the mud, groaning. The same crow landed beside him and cawed again, hopping up and down. It looked at Michael with too clever eyes,

“Fuck you,” Michael managed before the killer picked him up. The crow cawed, and followed them.

Michael screamed when the hook went through him. There was no point in trying to act tough, not against the Vagabond, who couldn’t care either way. Not against a fucking crow, either.

The Entity appeared almost immediately, and Michael knew his arms weren’t going to hold out for long. He struggled anyway, though. It didn’t do much other than prolong his death, but at least it meant he was doing _something._

The Vagabond watched him, mask hiding any emotion the thing felt. The crow’s cawing distracted them both, and Michael was tempted to let the Entity take him just so he wouldn’t have to hear it.

And then the crow flew towards the Vagabond, and Michael watched it disappear in a cloud of feathers and smoke.

Out of the cloud stepped a figure he hadn’t seen in a long time.

The shock had Michael’s arms going slack. He only had enough air to grunt as the Entity’s claws skewered him, watching the Vagabond pull the figure close, a gaunt face staring at Michael as his vision clouded. And if he knew the figure, then the Vagabond was- the height was right, and the build-

 _I told you, Gav,_ Michael thought, and he wished he could feel vindicated, angry, something that wasn’t a cold despair seeping from the wounds the Entity left. _I told you to be careful._

The figures faded to black. Michael hated that he hoped they were happy.

 

 

 

**Valentine’s Day DLC**

**The Vagabond**

Speed: 115%

Weapon: Throwing knives. Attack: 2m, Throw: 15m.

 **Ability:** Love Bird

A soul entwined with the Vagabond’s that takes the form of a crow. Love Bird patrols within the Vagabond’s terror radius. If the Vagabond is able to hook a survivor found using Love Bird’s ability, Love Bird’s Tier will increase. Love Bird Tier decreases after 60 seconds.

Tier I: Locates survivor within terror radius. Alerts killer and applies Exposed status effect for 15 seconds.

Tier II: Increases terror radius to 42m. Alerts killer and applies Exposed status effect for 30 seconds.

Tier III: Increases terror radius to 50m. Alerts killer and applies Exposed status effect for 30 seconds. Stuns target for 1 second.

**Add-ons:**

**Tarnished Ring:** At Level III, Love Bird can deal one state of damage to a survivor who has not been hit during the match.

 **Broken Bell:** Terror radius does not increase with Love Bird’s patrol radius.

 **Withered Branch:** Love Bird recruits the crows to assist. Crows give a visual cue when a survivor is nearby.

 **Bloody Rag:** One hit inflicts Hemorrhage status effect.

 **Unique Perks:**           

 **Transfusion:** Increases killer speed by 5/10/15% for 30 seconds after hooking a target with the Haemorrhage status effect.

 **Price of Progress:** Survivors become Exposed for 5/5/10 seconds when they complete a generator/leave a generator/leave a generator.

 **Life Drain:** If a survivor is hooked while under the effects of the Haemorrhage status effect, their life meter will start 10/15/30% lower. Does not activate if Entity has already been Summoned.

       

**Author's Note:**

> Some things:  
> \- The in-game items are 'flashlights,' but Gavin calls them torches, because that's what he does in videos.  
> \- The story references a lot of in-game strategies and perks, such as body-blocking, Quick and Quiet, and Technician for the survivors, and the Vagabond uses No One Escapes Death combined with Blood Warden at the end.  
> \- Freddy is the only killer who doesn't make an appearance in this story, because he sucks. Love the movies, though.  
> \- The Vagabond would have more add-ons, yeah, but I could only think of so many.  
> \- The blisters of light/smouldering appearance of the Vagabond's mask is based on legacy users, even though if he was in game such a skin wouldn't be available for him.
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> Is having your soul corrupted by an eldritch god and being forced to murder alongside your love for eternity a happy ending? You decide! But probably not...


End file.
